See Beyond the Blood Stains
by SilverWingedRaven
Summary: My name is Beyond Birthday. I live to kill, and I kill to live. You may call it a sin, but I know it's just a part of life. Eventually, death will consume us all, and what I have done will no longer matter; Not that it does now. Rated for graphicness because, well, it's BB. Rating may go up.
1. 1) The 375th Kill

**A/N: I'm feeling very dark today… So why not write a creepy little piece of fanfiction, hm? Let's see where this goes. I may or may not continue so tell me what you think.**

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Death.

The final frontier. The end of the end. It consumes all and leaves nothing behind. You and I are no exception, and death will not stop until it has taken us all.

That's what it all comes down to, in the end. Death.

That's what was in my mind when I killed my first victim. She was an average woman of average build and height. Nobody really liked her, but no one hated her either. She was just there.

But now she's not.

I don't know why I did it. I didn't have any opinion of her, nor did I have any particular reason to kill her. But I did, because something made me want to. I just looked at her and I felt the urge to take her life. Like I could literally see her time counting down and it had to be my fault it reached zero.

…It's not normal to talk about one's mother in that manner, is it? Then again, no one ever called me normal. They would never dream of pinning me with such a word. There are many reasons behind that.

First of all, there was my name. Beyond Birthday. Not once was there someone in my class with the same name as me. But a name can't really define someone, can it? Of course not; they're predetermined before you can talk, or even think coherently.

Personality, on the other hand, is something that develops over time. Some would say mine isn't even qualified to be a 'personality'. It's just a bloodlust.

But I beg to differ.

Bloodlust means that they just have the need to kill and make someone bleed. I don't need to kill. I don't particularly want it either. But I do appreciate it. The final moments of a human's life are the most precious. The most beautiful. There's just something about blood trickling down a dying man's face that's more exciting than it happening to a dead man.

When a human is dying, they have two options: Give in, or fight. When they give in, they are like a painting. They're beautiful, just letting the pain consume them, until death finally washes over them. But the painting can grow boring if one stares at it for too long. It loses its touch. It loses its life. But when they fight, they're like a shooting star flying across the night sky; In general, much more entertaining than the painting, yet just as beautiful. Even so, the shooting star disappears from sight much more quickly and leaves you longing for more.

When I killed her, when I ended my mother's life, she chose to fight it. She seemed not afraid of death, which was approaching her quickly, but more afraid of me. I don't understand why that was, seeing as I had put down the knife and was just watching her time left clock down to zero. Come to think of it, she didn't really seem afraid _of_ me, she seemed afraid _for_ me. She may have thought, _'Oh no, my son just killed someone! Whatever will become of him now? Surely he won't rot in jail, or be killed himself by the death sentence.'_ Or perhaps I'm just fantasizing and blowing this out of proportion. It's just something my subconscious conjured up to make my first killing 'special'.

But no matter. This was in the past, and thus it is irrelevant. I've killed many people after her. 374 exactly, until the one before me decides to let go.

This one was a boy, no; a young man is more like it. I remember seeing him in high school, and that he was always at the top of the class. We never spoke, nor really acknowledged the other's presence, but that doesn't matter now that he is on the ground before me, bleeding unfathomable amounts.

I didn't plan many of my killings, and this one is no exception. In fact, I was just out for a midnight stroll when I passed by him. He was in an alleyway and appeared to be smoking some kind of drug. It's a shame really; I never thought he would succumb to that. But it was then I noticed his numbers, slowly trickling down, and the urge to kill came over me again. He wasn't going to die of smoke inhalation or anything to do with the drug, that much I was sure. I never felt the need to run someone through with a blade when they died of something like that.

I stopped walking and headed towards him. He took no notice. I reached into my sweater pocket and gripped the knife I kept with me at all times. There were a few more on my person, but this one was my favorite. It cut through flesh gracefully and with ease, but not so enough that you couldn't tell you were tearing a human apart. That's the fun bit.

He continued smoking without even glancing in my direction and pulled the blade from my pocket. Without breaking stride, I thrust my knife through his upper stomach, just below his ribs. His eyes immediately went wide and he gagged.

"Hello, Yagami Light." I greeted as civilly as I could. Just because I'm killing someone doesn't mean I have to be savage about it. I pulled the blade from his gut slowly. His numbers weren't quite at zero yet, which meant I could take my time.

I lifted the weapon to his shoulder and let it glide down his flesh to just above where his heart would be. I then thrust into his chest, making sure the blade was fully immersed in his flesh. A crimson river gushed forth from his chest and mouth as he coughed in surprise and pain.

He showed no resistance. It appears he'll be one that gives up as well. A little less than half my victims were like him, so it wasn't completely shocking. He never did seem like much of a fighter anyway.

His numbers were dropping faster than I expected, so I removed my blade and stepped back. He immediately fell forward and onto his face without even attempting to catch himself. _Definitely a quitter_ I thought.

But then he did something surprising. He lifted his head up, trying to get a good look at his assailant. _Well, I guess he isn't just going to die like a dog_. And then he said something, something that I couldn't quite make out. He sputtered and gasped as I strained my ears to hear if he were to continue.

"You…" He choked out. "You were that kid... The one in the corner… The one who was always eyeing people… and scratching the desks with knives." Oh, so it appears he does remember me. How sweet. "I knew it. I knew you were the one… The one who killed them."

That sounded very vague, didn't it? Allow me to clarify. Every day at school, starting in the seventh grade, those who's numbers were running out would always catch my eye, one at a time. And I would observe them, and watch their clock count down. Apparently my observation habits were quite clear to mister Yagami. Many of my classmates were destined to die young, as it seems, and I made sure it happened so.

I smirked at him. "Yes, that was me, and yes, I killed them." A look of shock and horror spread across his face, as if he wasn't expecting me to just say it. "I'm not shy about it you know." I let out a chuckle. This was one of the most entertaining murders by far.

3…

"You…" He choked out. "No matter what you try…"

2…

"You're not even half the man…" He spat.

1…

"Your brother was."

0.

Silence. I stood there in silence for a while too. He still had a smirk on his face from his last taunt. I clenched my fists. "How dare he…" I was going to mutilate him further, so his face would be unrecognizable and his family would think he might still be alive. But now they will get no such kindness. In fact, to spite him, I severed all his fingers and sat him up against the concrete wall, his eyes still open. I then brought my blade to his lips and dragged it along his face, brutally and mercilessly, carving a permanent scowl onto his face. He will die unhappily. At least, that's what his corpse will say.

I plodded off without another word, hoping to make it back to my apartment before it got too late. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, but how could I when I was seething with rage?

How dare he, how dare he, how dare he…

Never before has something that someone who has passed on done or said annoyed me so much before. I usually just let it go immediately. They're dead after all. It doesn't matter anymore. But this… This will eat at me for years to come.

How dare he…

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**A/N: Kind of a cliffy :) Reviews make me very happy, and please tell me if you want this to continue. No promises unless this gets reviews.**

**YOU'LL FIGURE OUT WHAT THAT WHOLE BROTHER THINGY WAS IF YOU REVIEW! *bribe bribe* ;)**


	2. 2) Under Pressure

**A/N: Alright, this story has acquired 5 reviews and a couple followers so IT SHALL CONTINUE! Awesome, I wanted to keep writing anyways :D**

**Now for review responses:**

**Guest: Thanks, I was aiming for creepy, and now you get a continuation :)**

**Kiku-Goldenflower: Ah, but creepy is a good thing ;) I hope you come back for this chapter.**

** XxAmi. IzunexX: Firstly, thank you for reading my profile and actually paying heed to what my intro says. Secondly, thanks for noticing BB's casual attitude toward killing and how he is an ISP (love that term btw). Such a long review… I love it :)**

**Spark of the forgotten: If the computer screen DID respond, I would be concerned; unless an update counts as a response. Glad I got you interested :)**

**Sora of the Sky: Well, since you asked so nicely… Sure, here's a continuation :)**

**The first bit of this chapter was inspired by Linkin Park's song, 'Powerless'. Go listen to it when you've got the time. Oh and a warning: this chapter has swear words, and since the story's only rated T right now and some people are sensitive about that, I thought I should tell you.**

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Half past one AM, and I still haven't closed my eyes for more than a minute at a time. Light had compared me to my brother… and said I was inferior… But that can't be possible; the living are always superior to the dead, not the other way around.

Unless he isn't dead.

The only person on this planet who's death I am unsure of is my own brother's. Sad, isn't it? Although, some people wouldn't even consider us _brothers_, were it not for our blood. We simply co-existed at close quarters. He would go somewhere, and I tended to follow; it was a classic 'follow the leader' sort of thing.

My brother was the elder in our family, and thus he was the favorite. This was how things usually went in most families when I was a child. But because he was the favorite, the most pressure was put on him to do well. And he did. He was what you might call a genius. He took courses four years ahead of all his other class mates throughout school. And since I really didn't try in school, or even care about it, he pretty much showed me up.

Even though I lacked any sort of interest in the topic of school work, this still didn't sit right with me. My brother didn't care much for the academic either, yet he was top student in all of Japan, maybe in the whole world. That can't be right, can it? Of course, word of his genius soon spread and reporters started showing up at our door, begging for interviews. My brother was always a touch closed up, so he always refused and shut the door in their faces.

Eventually, however, the weight of being a genius and being hounded by the press was starting to have it's effects on him. He got more edgy and even less patient. I could practically see him standing on the edge of the sea of insanity, pondering whether or not to take the plunge.

At this point, we were still children: he being in his final year of middle school and I in my first. I was naïve. I worried and cared for him, despite the seed of resentment that had begun to plant itself inside of me. I had not yet killed anyone and was not yet what might classify as a "psychopath", so seeing my only brother on the verge of insanity did a number on me.

For the first time, I tried to comfort him. We began talking, or I did anyhow, but he didn't seem to appreciate my efforts. In fact, he began to push me even farther away. That's when the resentment really started to grow. My resentment turned to a feeling of detest when I began to hear the conversations of others about him. The children spoke so highly of my brother, almost as if he was a god, even though he had done nothing for them. I never understood why my colleges thought this way and I most likely never will.

And then one day, he just disappeared. I woke up and he was gone, left without a trace. No note. No goodbye. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. The man who had it all, the man who could've been anything, just walked out.

He was weak.

He couldn't handle the attention or the burdens of a superior intellect. He walked out on his family because he was too weak to stick it out. And yet, Light Yagami has the nerve to call me inferior to him?

I have the weight of 375 lost lives bearing down on my shoulders.

I have torn families apart and not shed a single tear.

I have my own mother's death on my conscience.

This is what I deal with. I am not weak. My brother cracked under a fraction of the pressure I live with. He's the weak one, not me.

Now, I say he cracked, but I can't really say how. Did he kill himself or did he just run away? Did he starve or freeze, or was he murdered? There is no evidence pointing to any one of these answers more than another. All I know is I never saw him again.

Suddenly everything is brighter and a thin layer of sweat cakes my flesh. I gasp, trying to fill my lungs as much as possible. The numbers 7:28 blink in red on my clock. So it appears I eventually did fall asleep. I look down and see my sheets are wrinkled and clumped up, indicating it wasn't a sleep filled with sweet dreams. I suppose I had I nightmare, but I don't remember. I can hardly ever recall my dreams.

Quickly I notice Mr. Yagami's blood still cakes me fingers. "Damn…" I mutter as last night's rantings and recollections come flooding back. I gingerly peel off my clothes to take a shower: I smell like something long since dead. I smirk at the thought. _How fitting._

Underneath the hot spray of the shower, I allow myself to wallow in anger, resentment, and other unattractive feelings. Although Light's blood slowly releases my flesh, his accusations hang tight, his voice still ringing in my ears.

"_You're not even half the man your brother was."_

"Dammit Lawliet!" I yell, slamming my fist against the shower wall. I take a deep breath and press my forehead there instead. "You abandon me, but have the nerve to leave your shadow hanging over my head, just out of reach so I can't tear it down?" I mutter, fully aware he cannot really hear me. "You think you're so great and you've got everyone fooled into thinking so too. But you're not. You're a coward," I spat. "But why am I the only one who can see that?"

My brooding is interrupted when I hear a loud banging on the bathroom door. "This is the police," A masculine voice from the other side calls. "We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up!"

Slowly, I turn the shower off. It appears I wasn't as alone as I thought I was last night, when I took Light Yagami's life. I was sure I hadn't left a trail from the other killings, but I was too enraged yesterday to cover my tracks. I let out a snicker. Of course I would slip up eventually, it only took over three hundred deaths. I quietly step out of the shower, wincing a little when my bare skin comes in contact with the cold floor. I dry only my feet and hands before I wrap my towel around my waist; this is hardly ideal, but I left my change of clothes outside.

"Don't make us come in there!" the voice from outside threatens.

"Alright, just give me a second," I call back, digging through my cabinet for anything I can use to defend myself. I like to keep the bathroom as a violence-free zone, a choice I'm quickly beginning to regret. In the back, I spot a nail filer. I don't know why it's there, but I'm not complaining; that thing's sharp.

I reach for the doorknob, swiftly turning it and ducking outside. There are two cops, one on either side of the door, both with guns. Neither of their numbers close to zero. I stab the wrist of the one on the left with the nail filer; the pain causes him to drop his gun. I kick it to the side and hide behind his back in case the other guy chooses to shoot. I've got my arm around his neck and my weapon pointed at his throat. I'm not really very strong, but I can at least hope I look threatening.

Apparently I do, because the other man just looks at me with wide eyes, his gun shaking in his hand. "Drop it," I order simply. He doesn't respond, so I try again. "Drop the gun or I'll bury this in his throat." I say it calmly. A calm voice is much more frightening than an angry one. The officer complies and drops his pistol to the floor. "Now lie down, stomach facing the floor." He hesitates, so I move my make shift weapon closer to my captive's throat. "Now."

That earned his compliance. Quickly, I drag my captive over to my dresser where I scoop up a change of clothes, a small knife, and my house keys all while keeping my arm tightly around his throat. Keeping my eye on the other officer, I back towards the door. All within a second, I release the cop, open the door, step outside, and lock the door again before I take off running down the hall. Luckily, no one was up and about yet; this could've made quite the scene. I practically dive into the elevator, almost breaking my finger on the button for the ground floor. Although I'm not completely dry, I speed-dress anyway, not wanting to run down the street in a towel. I'm buttoning up my jeans when the door opens at my desired floor.

Casually, I leave the elevator, slipping the knife and my key into my pocket and dropping the towel behind a plastic fern. I walk, not run, to the double doors at the end of the lobby, lest I bring attention to myself. It's doubtful only two officers would come to take out a psychotic killer, so I have to be on the look-out for any other officers. _Keep your eyes forward… don't glance back… ignore the other people…_

That's when something interesting catches my eye: low numbers. Very low numbers, floating right above the head of a middle-aged woman. A few feet away stand some men in police uniforms. Strangely, I'm not feeling the urge to gut this woman. But I suppose I stared in her direction too long, because I caught the eye of one of the cops behind her. "That's him!" he announced after looking at a piece of paper, possibly and artist's rendition of me based on the descriptions of whoever saw me take my 375th life. "Freeze!" Each officer (I counted four) pointed their gun at me and the woman screamed. I roll my eyes at her. _How stereotypical._ My attention drifts back to the officers. One of them – a smaller, weaker looking one – has relatively low numbers. I choose to target him.

"Put your hands up!" barked the cop from before. I slowly comply, my expression emotionless. "On your knees!" I sit myself down on one knee, keeping my eyes fixed straight forward as they surround me; their pistols aimed at my head.

My target is on my left, shaking. The officer standing in front of me looks him in the eye and nods, signaling him to begin searching me. Reluctantly, he reaches toward me. I quickly grab his arm and pull his body over me to act as a shield in case the others decide to shoot. One does, hitting him in the left shoulder. There's a trickle of blood but he's still breathing.

I swing my human shield's body around, knocking over the officers to my front and right. I wrench the pistol from his hands and promptly shoot the knee of the officer behind me, successfully knocking her to the ground. I drop my shield's body and shoot him once in the back for the heck of it. He was almost at zero anyway; I was just speeding things up.

In the chaos, I make a break for the door. I hear a final gunshot and spare a glance back. Seemingly, one of the guns misfired and hit the woman I mentioned earlier, who's now bleeding on the hardwood floor. Deciding I can't waste any more time, I sprint out the doors and down the sidewalk, sheathing the pistol in my empty pocket as I do so. After about four blocks, I stop to catch my breath.

_Haven't run like that in years…_ I muse. Soon, I realize that my bare feet had gone numb during my escape. _I need to sit down…_

After walking no more than 20 meters I come across a friendly looking coffee shop. _That'll do nicely._ A small bell chimes as I open the door, but the few customers and workers don't notice; their eyes are fixated on the small television set on the counter. I peer over their shoulders to catch a glimpse of what captured their attention, but I'm met with a drawing of my own face staring back at me, twisted into a sick smile.

"Just moments ago, the one we believe to have murdered and mutilated Japanese citizen Light Yagami was seen in the Odayakana Apartment Complex in Osaka, Japan. Gun shots were heard coming from this building and by standers claim they caught a glimpse of a man fleeing the scene," explained the news reporter on screen. "We are not certain of his location, so all citizens are warned to be extremely careful. It is not known what other kinds of murderous he has committed, so lock your doors."

After hearing that, I backed away. _This is all happening too fast… Damn, if only I was more careful! _I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. _If I don't act fast, I'll be in prison before I know it._ Just then, a small payphone caught my eye. I swiftly reached into the purse of a woman standing near me and withdrew a few coins before she could notice.

I curl myself up in the corner with the phone, keen not to waste any time. I dial the number I've had memorized for years in case of emergency; and this sure as hell was an emergency.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Third time's a charm.

"Hello? Dude, it's like, midnight over here… Who is this?"

"I need your help."

"Beyond?"

"Yes," I all but whisper. "I apologize for the timing, but this is quite urgent."

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**A/N: Bum bum BUM! This chapter is a whole 2331 words not including the author's notes. That's a lot for me! Also, I actually have a bit of a plan of where this story could go…**

**Like? Hate? Think I should up the rating? Wish I would end a chapter with more closure? Tell me in a review, please!**


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